Yours
by significationary
Summary: "She grew on me." An attempt to fill in the how, why, when, and where of that statement without leaving canon. Finnick/Annie
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys! Good to be back. This fic is going to be a lot shorter than my main Hunger Games one. It's basically an extended motivation exercise so I could write Finnick the way I wanted to in the sequel. Everything I write is supposed to fit with canon, except when I get to where ICSDT began. **

**Some personal choices; I decided Annie was 16 in her games. I gave her sisters and parents. I made up a lot about how District 4 careers are chosen and trained. I tried to make it as logical as possible, so nothing comes across as a Deus Ex Machina, but I'm not perfect. I JUST LOVE FINNICK ODAIR TOO MUCH FOR ANY RATIONAL ADULT TO LOVE HIM AIEJOFLKDSZ **

**Alright. Here. I'll shut up now. **

You're not supposed to mentor the year after you win. It's not a set-in-tone rule, but that's always been the practice. But then the last remaining male victor from 4 killed himself, so I didn't have much of a choice.

The first year, it went terribly. The girl didn't listen to a word I said and kept trying to twist her almost-certain imminent death into a night with me. Keep in mind, I was fifteen. I barely knew what that meant.

Mags was the other mentor that year – every year, actually. All the other girl victors made excuses each time so they wouldn't have to deal with the guilt if their kid lost. She was the only familiar face in the Capitol for me. I latched onto her and rarely left her side, which meant she had to help me handle it when the girl was killed, throat slit by a mountain-sized blonde boy from 2.

I don't even remember her name. I feel more guilty about that now than I did about anything then. I think I was in some kind of prolonged shock. When Mags sat down next to me and told me it wasn't my fault. I still cried for some reason. "It's not your fault," she reassured me. "She wasn't likable. The sponsors could see it."

That idea fundamentally confused me. I didn't understand how they could like me and not her, first of all, and I also didn't know what Mags meant. Then she explained the whole thing, giving a detailed breakdown of how to make a crowd like you – smile, react to them, connect – and another of what crowds don't like – arrogance, hopelessness, silence.

Patiently, I sat through those; I already know everything she was saying. It was common sense to me. The crowds liked everything about me, just naturally. I knew how to charm them. But I sat through her explanation because I trusted her.

And after, she launched into a lecture about how to teach the tributes these things, how to talk to them politely, but authoritatively, so what had happened this year wouldn't happen again. These things were new information. I soaked it all in and then I put it into practice that next year.

It sort of worked. I was better at the teaching, but the girl still didn't win, and Mags was there for me again to sit silently by me. I didn't cry that time either; I'd been careful not to get close, so although it was awful, it didn't consume me.

I could compartmentalize then, block out the parts that hurt me. I could be macho and pretend that it didn't matter. To some extent, it didn't. I was too young to really understand the utter wrongness about this whole thing. But I learned about that soon enough.

I turned sixteen in the winter, a little before my third year of mentoring. It always felt weird to me, to be celebrating my birth while everything else was colder than usual and less alive. It wasn't much of a celebration anyways, just Mags and me alone in our big house. We stayed up late, sitting in the sand, and we watched the sun rise over the ocean. I remember wondering what it'd be like if I hadn't gone in the arena, if I hadn't gotten reaped, or even if the games hadn't taken my mom. Would things be different?

It didn't matter. They weren't. The games had taken everything from me. Or I thought they had.

Snow came for me the night after that. I'm sure he made it sound grand and important, what he was asking me to do. I think for a second, I was flattered, until he finally got around to his actual point; if I didn't go with him and spend nights at the Capitol with whoever he said, he'd kill people. Mags. The trainers. My classmates.

So me, overconfident teenage boy that I was, agreed. He barely had to threaten me. I hate myself for that. Maybe if I'd been more resistant…

I can never finish that sentence. I'm not sure how I'd rather it go, what I would've wanted to happen instead. And regardless of the bad parts, there are some things I wouldn't change for the world; meeting Annie, being able to help her. In a weird way, my time at the Capitol drove us together. I'd want that to stay the same.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. You can't pick and choose like that, and you can't change the past. You can only hope to forget most of the bad parts.

I don't remember most of my first night; a voice bragging about how much she paid for the privilege of being my first, my heart feeling about ready to jump out of my chest, the train ride back where I showered five times with soap that smelled like roses. That's it. I don't remember her face, what we did, what she gave me. I don't care. They all blend together.

The first few months, I was operating in kind of a daze. My motivation for doing anything else was almost gone. I went to the Capitol. I did whatever Snow wanted. I came home. Eating, washing clothes, cleaning, and the other normal, daily tasks were preformed with robotic efficiency. Sleeping was nearly impossible. The rest of my time I spent sitting in a chair, staring out at the sea, my mind empty.

I guess I was depressed, if you have to have a name for it, but I didn't know it then. I didn't try to think about how I felt. In fact, I tried not to think at all. Thinking meant letting in all sorts of things, things I'd done or heard or said. And I couldn't afford that.

I was like that right up to the games. Mags took one look at me on the train and frowned. As soon as she could, while our tributes were getting beautified, she got me alone and began the conversation with "Is Snow renting you out?"

I nodded, unable to speak. It was horribly embarrassing to admit, especially to her.

"Is that why you're like this?" She motioned at me.

"Like what?"

"Don't play dumb, Finnick, you're too good at it," she said sternly. Her tone was all bossy aunt. "Have you lost your will to live?

"No, I want to live," I said, and it was true.

"Then why the apathy?"

"What's the point?" I shrugged despondently. "Snow's in control. He always will be. I can't fight it."

"Yes, you can."

"But it wouldn't be worth it."

"But someday, you'll find something that's worth it. Maybe some_one_. So until then, you've gotta get your act together, kid."

"And do what?" I demanded, stalling. I so wanted to trust her and obey. She did keep me alive after all. But since she cared about me, I was worried she was lying.

"And get good," she said firmly. "So you won. So what? For the rest of your life, you should be ready to win again, so that if you ever have to fight for those you love, you can win. Learn everything you can especially about Snow and politics. Become dangerous, but act docile. Got it?"

"But what if Snow never lets me stop?"

"You'll lose those looks eventually," she said with a hint of a smile. "But until then, try to find a way to force your hand." She put her hand on my shoulder. "You don't deal with helplessness well, Finnick. I guess because you're not used to it. So rebel."

"How?" I frowned.

"Anything. Small things. Use words from the Dark Days. Be different for a second. Dare to think for yourself." She gave me a look I couldn't decipher. "And never love anyone from the Capitol."

That last one I could easily agree to, without even thinking. "But Mags, I'm… I'm scared," I mumbled, flushing.

"Then you've got a brain. These are frightening times. Be wary." She pulled me close for a rare quick embrace, then ruffled my hair. "You'll do fine," she said. Thinking back, I'm not sure who she was trying to comfort.

So that's what I did. While my tributes kept losing, I was the most charming smartass ever seen. I refused to wear blue for a year. I "accidentally" misunderstood details in instructions given to me. One client told me to make her happy. I seductively showed her a mirror. Another woman joked about me getting her pregnant. Innocently, I asked if she wasn't already.

All of this was done flirtatiously, like I was just acting on impulse or joking so nobody took too much offense. Except, of course, for Snow, who caught on after a year or so. I had to be more discreet, but I didn't stop. I couldn't feel so helpless again.

Mags didn't give me any more lectures, so I guess I improved. It felt good to get back at them, even in petty ways. My life was almost fun again, as I gathered secrets and gifts. Money was never an issue – I wouldn't have to think about saving anything for the next several decades at least, so I began exclusively dealing in information.

As part of my profession, I was rubbing elbows – sometimes more – with the most important people in the nation, a fact which I learned to exploit. I learned more about Snow's web of lies, poison, and twisted deals than I ever wanted to know. He controlled more than I thought, kept control more ruthlessly than I'd feared. I began to seriously doubt the possibility of anyone ever bringing him down.

That sneaking suspicion combined with all the things I was doing in the Capitol were combining to form this great and sinking emptiness inside. I wasn't just faking my way through everything like before. I mean, I had good and bad days, and I liked some things and really hated others.

Late at night, though, when I couldn't sleep, I felt so hollow, like my thoughts were echoing around in space where there should be something else. I didn't know what was supposed to be there, but whatever it was, it was definitely missing.

I didn't tell Mags. She was already worried enough as it was. The last thing she needed to know about was my crushing emotional problems that she could do nothing about. I figured it was just temporary, caused by exhaustion or something. Even after it had lingered for more than two years, I still thought it would go away.

Okay, maybe I didn't think it would. But I hoped it would, even though I had no reason to hope that. It had been more than two years of nights in the Capitol and emptiness, with no sign of changing.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Not sure how many people are following this. It doesn't matter - this is more for me, anyways. I haven't proofread or spellchecked. I haven't made sure the tenses all match. Really, I'm only trying to get a timeline roughed out. So. Um. **

**I don't know how many of you care, but I write for other fandoms, and I think I'm gonna post a few new things, so keep an eye out for that, I guess. Geez, I'm sorry I don't have more content, but I'm super busy writing (and working and ****college-ing and such) so c'est la vie. **

**Also, since I posted this, FINNICK ODAIR HAS BEEN CAST *cough* excuse me. I communicated only through screams for the first ten minutes after I found out. I think Sam Claflin's perf, but I realize all of you might not. In any event, you have someone to picture as you read. For Annie, I've always imagined the French actress that played the mermaid in Pirates of the Caribbean 4, but to each their own. **

**TTFN - ta ta for now!**

The 70th games. The fourth year of mentoring, second since I turned sixteen. I knew what to do by then, how to give the tips and safely keep my distance. I was more prepared than ever, I thought.

It didn't seem any different, even as the representative from our district, Kittie Hummel, picked the girl name. I heard the name and didn't really register it, not until I saw the girl who walked up on stage.

She wasn't in training. I knew all the kids in training, plus I also knew if I'd seen her before, I would've remembered it. She was fantastically beautiful, with shiny brown hair that reached down to her lower back and light eyes that were stunning even from a distance. Her skin was unusually pale, especially for someone from here.

Every eye was on her as she made her way to the stage, but she didn't even seem to realize it. Her eyes stayed on the ground the whole way, except when she walked up the steps. Then, she glanced up at me for a split second, long enough for me to tell that she wasn't exactly scared as much as she was angry.

Immediately, I liked her. I snuck glances at her throughout the whole ceremony, noticing her simple white dress, her slender hands relaxed at her sides, how her hair swayed whenever she moved the slightest bit. It was all I could do not to stare.

Mags noticed. "Finnick," she hissed at me. "Show some restraint."

"I am," I muttered, which made her smile.

The instant we were ushered offstage, I made my way to her side. "Hi," I said. "I'm Finnick Odair, and I'm your mentor."

"I know," she said calmly. "I'm Annie Cresta. And I'm your tribute."

I smiled, surprised. "So why didn't anyone volunteer for you?"

"Because of how I look?" she demanded, fixing me with a stern look. "That's rude."

She caught me there. "No, because that's how things work," I defended.

"I wouldn't let them. Someone else shouldn't have to die for my bad luck."

"But we've trained for that, and you've got a family."

"A family of six older sisters that are all much more talented than I am at things. I will not be too sorely missed."

"Stop messing with me," I snorted.

"I'm not," she said. I thought I recognized my emptiness in her tone, but then it changed. "And I can't kill anyone," she said. "I'll help my district partner, but I won't hurt anyone."

I examined her closely, trying to find some sign that she was joking. But, as far as I could tell, she wasn't. "You know this means you probably won't win, right?"

"But my partner will have a better chance," she said stubbornly. "If I'm getting him food and supplies and things."

"Yeah… but what, are you in love with him are something?" I said as we boarded the train. We'd left Mags and the boy behind so we had some time while they caught up. "You can't sacrifice yourself like that for him. You don't even know how he feels about this."

"I don't care, because yes, I _can_ sacrifice myself, and I'm going to. Not because I'm in love with him. I don't even know him too well." She gave me a look that was equal parts annoyance and amusement. "Are you angry?"

"Kind of, yeah." I sat in a chair; she sat across from me. "I mean, you've got the best chance with the sponsors out of everyone I've mentored, and you're throwing it away."

"No, I'm not. But I won't let them turn me into something I'm not."

I run my hand through my hair. "Yeah, well, you don't always have a whole lot of choice in the matter."

I looked up and found her examining me way closer than I was comfortable with. "Really?" she said softly, gently.

I was very uncomfortable. "Um. Yeah," I mumbled.

Thankfully, Mags and the boys came in right after that and started talking strategy. I didn't have to contribute much, so that left time for thoughts I didn't want to have time for.

Annie was going to die. She wouldn't let the Capitol make her kill. She had six older sisters, talented and probably gorgeous, judging by her. She wouldn't let anyone else volunteer. She didn't make a pass at me, not once.

I tried to fit those pieces into a picture of her, to get some kind of handle on what she actually wanted from me. The only thing I could think of is that she was being completely genuine, which was weird.

Mags noticed me being lost in thought, probably because she had to repeat my name several times before I realized she was talking to me. All I said then was, "I don't feel good." With that excuse, I left, heading straight back for the bedrooms. I needed to be alone, because I'd been thinking too long and could feel the emptiness rising up for me like a wave. I didn't want to be around Mags when it crashed down.

It felt like sleepwalking. Nothing around me was real, and I was alone with the words echoing through my head. Nothing mattered, including me. I was broken out of that weird place by water huffing my face. I'd apparently gotten in the shower and pressed a bunch of buttons, including one for pale foam which was sticking to my clothes. I didn't even take my shoes off. And now I had a giant headache. Great.

I messed with the water until it was less freezing cold and turned off all the foams and soaps. Then I rinsed off my shirt and pants, leaving them on because it was a little late to worry about them getting wet.

There was a knock on the bathroom door right as I dunked my head fully into the spray. "Yeah?" I said, spitting out water. Probably Mags, and if not, I didn't care.

The door opened a crack. "Finnick? Are you alright?" It was Annie, sounding nervous.

"Just fine, thanks," I took off my shirt – it was getting too cold and heavy – and wrung it out.

"Then why did you suddenly run to take a shower with your clothes on?"

"Look, Annie." I turned off the water. "You're beautiful, and I'm going to do everything I can to help you last as long as possible in there. But you've gotta let me keep some secrets."

"Like all the ones those women in the Capitol tell you?"

Even though she couldn't see me, I froze for a second, taken completely off guard. "What?" I said faintly.

"I did my research. I know what you do."

"Doesn't give you any right to barge into my bathroom," I said, eyes shut. I was really glad she could only hear me. My voice was fine. My face would've given me away.

"You're right," she said after a second. "I'm sorry." And she left.

The instant the door shut, I got out of the shower, tossing my shirt on the ground where it landed with a squelch. While I stripped off the rest of my sodden clothes and wrapped a towel around my waist, I considered what my story would be. I didn't have much of a reason to shower, and at least Mags and Annie would want an explanation.

The thing I absolutely couldn't tell them was the truth; there _was_ no explanation. Sometimes my head went haywire and my body went on autopilot to make it stop. No, I didn't know why. No, I wasn't crazy. I was fine – great, even, looking better than ever. I was okay. They had to believe that.

Annie was waiting for me in the bedroom. I ignored her, walking to the closet, and then standing there with my back to her. But I couldn't resist just one question. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting."

"For me to do you? Sorry, not in the mood."

"Are you ever?" she asked.

"For you?" I glanced over my shoulder, ready to deliver a blistering comeback. Only two problems with that; she really wasn't that bad of an option, especially compared to my usual type, and also she got to it first.

"No, because that's not going to happen. I meant are you ever in the mood."

I turned and gave her a stern look. "What is your problem? Do you think I'm _ugly_?"

"Did I say that?" she said, so calmly it was not at all flirtatious. "Stop avoiding the question."

"Stop insulting me!"

"I'm not. You're the one doing everything you can to offend me so I leave."

"I wasn't… How dare you," I sputtered, but for some reason, there was a knot in my gut. "You're the one sitting here when I want you to go."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I do. I've got plenty of friends. I don't need another girl who's obsessed with me." I turned back to my closet, praying that would be it. I heard her stand, walk to the door, and I was very relieved.

"I don't care how many friends you have," she said. "I think you're the loneliness person I know." And she left.

Several seconds too late, I said to the door, "You don't know me." I had the feeling that I'd said that in time, she would've had a reply. _Does anybody?_ Or something like that.


	3. Chapter 3

While I was putting on my clothes, I realized that maybe she stayed to make sure I was okay, alive, in one piece. Or none of those, or all of them. I'm not going to assume anything about her, not when she goes around and says things like that about me.

She's right, of course. My line about lots of friends was a total bluff. The only person I regularly talk to is Mags, and President Snow, I suppose. Some of the other victors had been pretty friendly, like Johanna from District 7 and another girl from 8. I was popular with the ladies as always. Just not this lady.

Honestly, I couldn't tell if she liked me or not. I wasn't sure if I wanted her to, either. It was obviously dangerous for her to get close to me – she'd go and make some more snappy statements that unnerve me. I've got to avoid intense conversations with her.

Guess I've always been a sucker for punishment, because after I got dressed, I headed right back out to the main room where she and the other two were. "I see you're wearing blue again," Mags said with a glance at my shirt.

"Yep." I sat down next to her, allowing myself only a short look at Annie. She was giving me a deeply penetrating look, which was really unnerving, so I looked away. "So what are we doing, what's the plan?"

"Actually, we've already got that," Mags said. "He's going to focus on the spear work. She's going to get the sponsors and act as support in the arena. We'll work on the details separately."

"When?"

"Now. We're gonna grab some food – he missed lunch, and Kittie will go nuts if she doesn't have someone to nag." She raised her eyebrows, and she and the boy got up and walked over to the table.

Damn. I didn't know why the hell I expected to be able to avoid one-on-one conversation with her when she's my mentee. "Okay," I said, all business. "So in your interview-"

"I know how to interview," she said. "I want to know something else."

"No." I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed deeply. "I know what you're gonna ask, and I don't want to answer. It's not your concern."

"Yes, it is."

"No, the games are your only concern for the next week or so. That's it."

"I'm not worried about that. Whatever happens will happen. But I _am_ worried about you."

"And why's that." Condescension was always a good backup tactic to push them away.

"Because you're not who you pretend to be. Or I don't think you are, at least."

"What do you think I am?"

"Just a person. And you're scared."

Good God. What was I supposed to say to that? How did she even make that conclusion? "What makes you say that?" I said, leaning back in my chair, but my confidence was crumbling by the minute around her.

"Do you really want me to tell you?"

Did I? What did her opinion matter to me? It shouldn't have. I'd met her less than an hour ago, and still didn't know her much better than I did then. Still, something made me value her opinion. Maybe just a gut instinct that recognized a quality human being. Maybe it was fated. So I nodded once, sneaking another look at her. "Sure. Tell me."

"You don't want me to say this loudly," she said, so I sat sideways on the couch, leaning against the back and looking at Annie.

"Go ahead."

"You're scared that you're not good enough," she said softly.

"Why's that?" I remained skeptical-sounding, but my heart was pounding.

"Because you act like you're a god. And the only people who do that are those who think they are and those who wish they were. You're not the first one."

"You're making a lot of connections that aren't exactly logical," I pointed out.

She looked at me solemnly. "I've watched the tapes of you," she said. "I've seen the darkness behind your eyes. Deny it if you want, and I'll leave you alone."

I think she knew I couldn't. Well, I could, but it'd be a lie, and for some reason, I didn't want to lie to her. Maybe it'd be nice to not lie to someone for once. "Darkness, huh," I repeated.

"Hollowness," she clarifies.

"Okay. What else do you think about me?"

"I think the Capitol has abused you. It isn't fair. And I think you don't know who you are. Why don't you tell anyone the truth? Like the other mentor, you trust her."

I was starting to think it was going to get old asking how she knew personal truths about me that I hadn't fully realized or even considered every time she said one. "Yes, I do, but she's done enough. I'm an adult, this is my issue to deal with," I said.

"Which issue in particular?"

I couldn't tell if I loved or hated that she said that. "Whatever issue you saw in my eyes."

A copout answer, and we both knew it, but she didn't say anything about it. "You don't have to keep everything to yourself. Do you ever confide in anyone?"

"I've grown out of that. Did you put truth serum in something I ate?" I said defensively. Where did all my snappy answers and charming comebacks go? They just melted away around her. I knew it wasn't fair to blame her for that, but I did, although not in a bad way.

"Honesty tends to be replied to in kind," she said with a soft smile. "And I thought it wouldn't matter if I made you uncomfortable, with the imminent death thing on the horizon."

She was the one girl who could possibly convince me to sleep with her with that leverage, and somehow she's also the one girl who wouldn't. "Okay," I said. "Well, with that imminent death thing on the horizon, I guess I can afford a little bit of uncomfortable."

"Does that mean you'll tell me if I was right or not?"

"I thought you already knew," I frowned.

"I had some really strong suspicions," she hedges.

A smile accidentally broke out on my face. "Then that was a really good bluff you had going there," I said. "For a moment, I really did believe you knew everything about me."

"I never claimed that."

It occurred to me that if this girl was so inclined, she could have me any time she wanted. I wasn't sure how I feel about that. "Okay," I said. "Well. Maybe we should start this whole conversation over again, now that I know the deal."

She smiled, too. "Okay. Let's do that. I'll start." She considered for a second. "Do you feel like you're not good enough?"

"I… um, well, when are you talking about. Be more specific." I couldn't stop myself from stalling, I guess.

"I meant ever."

Oh. "I think that's a really… broad statement that I can't really commit to at this point," I said. "But I can say those standards in the Capitol are just getting increasingly ridiculous. I didn't know that many colors existed, let alone that hair could be that bright."

"Why haven't you changed? To look more like them, I mean."

I shrugged. "One of the stupid rebellious things I do." She wanted me to explain, so I did. "I do these… really pointless things, like not wearing blue for a year, just to be a jackass. Snow was getting on my nerves, and I had to do something."

"So you refused to wear blue?" Annie asked, confused.

"Yeah, he's a control freak, it drove him crazy. Things like that."

"You want to show him he doesn't own you."

"Sure. I guess. Feels good, anyways."

"And what about your heart?" she said without a hint of self-consciousness. "How is it?"

I laughed once. "What heart?" She doesn't seem to think that's funny. "None of them have gotten anywhere near it, don't worry about it."

"Not one of them?"

"Not one. They're nothing, they're… less than nothing, considering what they do." I accidentally let myself get pissed about that. I clenched my teeth and made myself let go.

"So you don't feel… anything," she said skeptically. "You spend half your time there for two years, and it hasn't affected you at all."

"Not even a bit." But the wave was pressing at the edge of my mind again, just like it always did when I thought too much.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"You just… twitched or something. Why was that?"

"Just… I felt cold? No. It was accidental. Sorry."

"But what were you thinking about?"

I thought about answering, I really did, but I couldn't. Not even to her. "Next question."

"Do you even like sex?"

"I mean… anything gets old if you do it about a billion times," I mumbled, unsure exactly how much I should tell her. On one hand, I still want to tell her almost everything. On the other hand, I didn't want word of this to get around to the women in the Capitol. I'd be ruined, and people would die. "This is all off the record," I said. "Don't do some last hurrah slander thing and ruin me before you go in there."

"I would never."

I believed her. Maybe I shouldn't have. "Then yeah. I'm not exactly a willing participant."

"And it doesn't hurt you to be forced to do this?"

"Doesn't hurt, no." It did the opposite of hurt, actually, because it made me feel nothing. I just couldn't tell her that nothing was worse than hurt.

"I wish I could help you," she said. "I really do."

"That's… that's really sweet. Thank you. But I'm okay."

She gave me a stern look that clearly said she knew exactly how not okay I was.

"So let's figure out how you're going to survive," I said before she could talk. "How good are you at climbing and/or hiding in general?"

After that, we talked strategy until she got to the Capitol. I had the chance to tell her not to be scared about the beautification process, and then they whisked her away.

Mags scooted up beside me. "So you've taken a liking to this one," she said.

"I guess you could say that."

"You have a thing for hopeless cases or something?"

"Y'know, you really don't have much room to talk," I pointed out.

But she shakes her head. "You were never a lost cause," she said. "Not with that face."

I wasn't sure if that was a complement or not. "Thank you?"

"Don't overthink it. Just try to relax. Figure out how to present her in her interviews." She put her hand on my shoulder. "Put your best efforts into this one."

"And why's that?"

"Because I haven't seen you this alive since your games."

Maybe she was catching more than I thought. "Okay," I said cautiously. "I will."


	4. Chapter 4

I didn't think it was possible for her to be improved, but after she came out of beautification, she looked even more perfect. Her long dark hair was shiny and smooth, more than halfway down her back. Her eyes seemed somehow brighter, her skin more flawless and porcelain. She looked like a doll.

About three seconds after I was entranced by her, though, I was overtaken by this deep and terrible sadness, because I knew a terrible fact. Snow was going to love her. She'd never be safe for the rest of her life.

"What," she said, looking down at herself. "Do I look awful and plastic?"

"No. You'll get sponsors, that's for sure." Whatever the stylist did for her, she'd look fantastic, so I didn't bother worrying about that. "What are your thoughts about the interview?"

"I'm going to be myself."

"Don't want to… discuss any other strategies, or…"

She shrugged. "No."

"You're awfully confident."

"If that's what you want to all it."

I didn't know what she meant by that. So much of her was so calm about the situation, but she didn't really want to talk about. I made the dubious choice to let her call the shots; whatever she said, I did. It was her life at stake. Let her make the choices. Maybe that would mean less guilt for me if she didn't make it.

She was stunning in the parade, and equally so in her interview. Between the two, I managed to keep our conversations to purely business type topics, and she cooperated. No more penetrating questions or annoying compassion. Just business.

And then, the night after the interview, when she'd already kicked ass at making the nation fall in love with her, that lovely break ended. We ended up sitting on the couch that night, lounging about in our pajamas and watching all of the footage of what had happened so far, alone because Mags and her tribute were already in bed.

"I don't want to see this," Annie finally said. "Can we… not?"

"But you need to understand the competition," I said. "That's, like, basic strategy."

"I think it's safe to assume they'll all try to kill me with everything they have. I don't really want to dig deep into their psyches so I can rip them apart."

"But that's the best part."

She didn't realize I was joking right away, and almost glared at me. Then she smiled. "Can we turn it off?" she asked again.

I muted it. "Happy?"

"Thank you." The silence made me uncomfortable, but not quite enough to stop her from talking, unfortunately. "So do you like doing this?"

"Doing what?" I asked warily.

"Being a trainer."

"Oh. No. I have to, I'm the only male trainer left. No, it is not good at all. Watching all those girls lose, year after year. Terrible," I said, trying to sound flippant. I'd avoided the emptiness for three or four days, and I would've loved to make it longer.

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's fine. Somebody has to do it."

"It doesn't depress you or anything?" she frowned.

"Not exactly. I kind of have bigger problems to worry about. And I'm also used to it. Mags was good at helping with that the first couple of years." I still wondered why I wanted to tell her everything about myself at the slightest provocation. It kept happening.

She turned to face me on the couch, leaning against the back of the couch and looking at me in an alarmingly incisive way. "You're close to her, aren't you?" she said.

"Yeah, she's practically family. Closest thing I've got, at least."

"You're not a volunteer?" she asked, slightly confused.

"No, I'm not. No family left since I was a toddler." I hesitated, then confided, "I never knew my dad, which is perfectly fine. My mom had me when she was a teenager. She was in the 53rd games, killed in the bloodbath."

"I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault. Not even hers, really. They said she was too tired from taking care of me."

"Do you think it's your fault?"

"There's not exactly another way to see it," I said, trying to understand what she wants from me. "I mean, I learned from her mistakes, so I guess it was a good thing."

Annie seemed shocked. "You watched her tapes?"

"Yeah. I couldn't remember what she looked like." She was beautiful, with long blonde hair that was always braided down her back, and her eyes were just as blue as mine are green. She couldn't fight, but she did her best. And she definitely looked tired.

"I'm sure she was beautiful."

"She was." I couldn't help being a little proud of that.

Annie shook her head slowly. Finally, she said, "No wonder you're confused."

"Confused? Confused about what?"

"Everything. Who you are, what to be, what to feel. You have no idea what you're doing. And I'm just saying it makes more and more sense to me. That's all."

"I know exactly what I'm doing," I defended myself. "And I'm doing a damn good job, considering what I have to deal with."

"Oh, yeah, of course you are. But…"

"Just say it," I sighed when she didn't seem ready to continue.

"It sounds stupid in my head. I know it'll sound worse out loud," she wavered.

"I think we're a little past worrying about sounding stupid," I pointed out.

She smiled. "Okay. Well, when I look at you, I see someone who doesn't know what he's going to do tomorrow, let alone for the rest of his life. You're just… adrift, and confused, and lonely. But you don't have the time for any of those things, so you're hiding it."

I had to clear my throat before I spoke. "Oh."

"And please don't think that means I think any less of you," she continued. "I think I like you, as a person – or what I've seen of you, at least – which is why I even care." She paused again, evidently waiting for me to say something, but I couldn't. "If you don't want to talk to me about any of this, again, that's fine."

"Y'know, I don't mind, though," I said after several long seconds. "This is probably like the only chance I'll get to talk like this to anyone, so it can't hurt, I guess."

"Are you sure?" she checked.

"Yeah, I'm… yeah."

"Okay. So, what do you think?"

"I think you're perceptive as hell. I'm impressed." It cost me nothing to admit that.

"I'm right?" She seemed surprised by this option.

It was significantly harder to say the next thing. The nothingness was pressing at my head again, ready to take over as soon as I drop my defenses. And with her, all I ever wanted to do was give in and surrender. "Yeah," I said softly. "You're right about most of that, actually." I rubbed my knuckles in my eyes, trying to fend off crushing despair.

"I'm sorry." She reached out and put her hand on my arm.

I didn't know how to handle that, so I acted on instinct. I took her hand and leaned in closer. Annie completely shocked me by moving back. "Not that sorry," she said.

"Oh, okay. Sorry," I said, trying not to be wildly embarrassed.

She shrugged. "It's okay. And I'm still sorry."

"Well, this isn't your fault. Don't worry about that."

"Are you gonna let me worry about you?" she said.

"Yeeeeah, yeah, I guess. What do you mean?"

She didn't seem to know how to put it at first. "I… look. I know I just met you. I know we have no personal connection or anything. So I'm not going to force you to listen to me. I might be completely wrong. I realize that."

"I told you, you weren't," I said.

"But you might just be saying that. You do that sometimes."

How did she know that? "But I wasn't."

"Okay. So does that mean I get to worry?" she said, teasing me a bit.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. You can worry."

"Good. Because I was going to either way."

"Then I guess the least I can do is explain some of it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Just… I guess I don't know where to start. That's all."

Annie didn't have to think about her first question for more than a second. "So that look in your eyes, what does that mean?"

"It means that everything… everything's about to become nothing. Or it feels like it. It feels like it a lot. I guess that's what it means."

She nodded. "And how is that like?"

"I always have a headache after it. And sometimes, I end up in the shower. With my clothes on." I smiled a little.

She giggled. "It's a unique response, I'll give you that. I mean, who the hell just runs into the shower when they feel stressed out?"

"Hey. Don't dump on me, I'm trying to be honest with you," I said, pretending to be offended.

"I'm just being honest back."

"Fine."

After a few seconds of us looking at each other, she asked another question. "And the loneliness, how does that work?"

"I'm just… I'm always alone. Even around other people, people I like, I'm just… alone. So I don't know how that _works_, necessarily, but that's how it is," I said. Admittedly, I didn't understand the question, but also it was such a personal thing that I couldn't just say it without being at least a little difficult.

"Because no one understands you?"

"Because nobody cares to."

There's a heart-stopping beat of silence after I said that. I couldn't let myself look at her, because I had no idea how she'd respond. She suspiciously wasn't saying a thing, which didn't seem like a very good sign. Then, finally, she said, "I care."

That's maybe the cheesiest thing she could possibly say, completely predictable. It shouldn't have had any impact on me at all. But it did. I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and something was pushing on the edge of my mind again, similar to the emptiness but also not. I guess it's less cold than it usually feels. And it breaks over me, cracking right through my defenses, but none of the usual things happen.

Instead of feeling cold, I got warm all over, and the hollowness is full of hot air that's expanding in my chest. Maybe I am empty, but I'm somehow not at the same time. "Oh… okay," I said. "Thank… thank you." I had to reciprocate in some way. "I care about you too."

"That's very nice," she said, but she sounded a bit hesitant.

I think I knew what she was worried about. "I just mean in a platonic way, though."

"Okay."

"And that's kind of a first."

"I know," she said, but not in a way that was smug.

"I can't let you die."

"It's not up to you."

"It could be. It _should_ be."

"Things will happen how they're supposed to happen."

"That's awfully naïve of you," I snorted, so she wouldn't know I felt like I was about to cry.

She looked at me closely. "You don't really know me, y'know."

"I don't care. I want to know you. You aren't _like_ anybody else."

"Have you ever had a friend before?" she wanted to know.

I wasn't sure how to answer. "I don't know. But there hasn't been that much opportunity to make any friends or anything. I've been… busy."

"Yeah." She looked at me sideways. "Well, you're not busy now."

It took me a second to register that she wasn't coming on to me. "Good point. So what does that mean?"

God, I loved her smile. I don't know why it took me that long to figure that out – everything about that smile was adorable. The way the skin around her eyes crinkled up, how warm it made me feel, and especially how it wasn't asking for anything. It was the best smile in the world. I wanted to see it forever.

"It means you can make friends now," she said.

"Oh. Um, how do you do that?"

"You could put your arm around me and we could keep talking until we fall asleep."

"Are you sure you're not flirting with me?"

Annie grinned. "Maybe just a little. But only because you're Finnick Odair."

"I don't know what that means."

She leaned her head against my shoulder. "I guess that's a good thing."

Tentatively, I put my arm around her, making sure every second that it was what she wanted. "Are we being friends now?"

"Sure. A few more deep personal revelations wouldn't hurt."

"Okay, well how about you take a turn for once," I suggested. "You know way more about me than I'll probably ever know about you."

"That's fair. What do you want to know?"

"Um. Well. Anything. Do you have any friends or something at home that you're gonna miss? Any notes or messages you want me deliver?"

"Not really. I said all I needed to my family. And friends… I could've had them, but I didn't want them," she said with a strange tone in her voice.

"What? Why's that?"

She shrugged against me. "The girls were shallow and the boys disgusting. Not every single one of them, but enough. I decided I'd rather spend my time without them."

"So what did you do, then?"

"I read, and learned about everything I could. My father took me out in his ship as often as I wanted. So I can swim really well."

"Then let's hope for an aquatic arena."

She laughed once. "Yeah. Let's hope."

"So why do you want to be friends with me? Am I better than all the boys back home?" I said, teasing her.

"Don't get a big head, but in some ways, yes. You're more honest, at least. A nice change."

"Is that _it_?"

"Stop pouting. No, it's not it. But generally friends don't flatter each other. It's supposed to remain unspoken," she said. "You are surprisingly sweet, though, I'll give you that."

"Is that a complement? Because it seems like it might not be."

"No, it is. It's hard to tell how you are when you're on camera. I didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this." She considered. "Well, maybe it was the flirty thing. But not the rest."

"Oh." There were several long moments of companionable silence. "So… just to be clear, and in a totally not egotistical way, you like me? I mean, just as a person."

"Yes," she said. "I do. And while I'm here, I'd love to be your friend."

"I'd… I love that too," I said, clearing my throat.

Just like she said, we fell asleep together that night.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next few days, we got to know each other really well – better than either of us had known anyone ever. She got me to talk about things I swore I never would, things from my games and from the Capitol. I told her almost everything, and she was so, so calm about everything. She didn't criticize me for anything I told her. She was the best friend I'd had. And then I had to watch her go to die.

True to her word, she wouldn't hurt anyone, even when she had obvious chances. The gifts that I got to her, she shared with her district partner equally, which drove me crazy. Mags tried to give me advice, but I didn't want to hear it. I just watched every instant of her being on screen. After all, I didn't know which shot of her could be the last.

She made it three days. Her partner made it two. Those were three terrifying, heartbreaking days, each one worse than the last. I hated it. It's like someone was intentionally trying to get me back for not being worried in other years by condensing all the worry into then.

After her partner died, everything went even more terribly wrong; her mind split apart. I could tell right away. She was doomed. I did everything I could to keep her safe, even when it meant doing everyone I could. More sponsors than ever lined up for her, but it wasn't going to be enough.

And then the dam burst. My first instinct was to panic, but then I knew it was a blessing in disguise. Annie could swim like a fish. It was the only possible situation where she could survive, and she did. While the other tributes floundered and eventually sank under the water, Annie treaded water until the last cannon boomed and she was declared the winner.

I'd never felt so relieved in my entire life. I think I cried. I know I made sure I was the first thing she saw. I fought tooth and nail to get on the hovercraft that picked her up. That paid off in a big way; she was terrified of all the technicians. When I first saw her, she was crammed under the bed against the wall, scared of everything and everyone.

"Leave," I said to all the technicians. "Go, I'll take care of her. I'll get her in the bed."

They didn't want to, but I turned on the charm and convinced them. They all left and I went in, shutting the door behind me. I stayed facing the door for a second, my back to her, trying to figure out how the hell to approach this.

I turned to face her, walked halfway across the room and sat down. "Hey, Annie," I said softly. "Look, it's me."

There was a silence that seemed to last forever. Then, jerkily, she turned her head to look at me. I could barely see her eyes through her damp, tangled hair, and she was a mess otherwise. Her porcelain skin was scraped and bruised, her clothes sodden and torn, and when she looked at me, her eyes were completely feral.

"Annie. It's Finnick, okay? You're okay. You're safe. You won," I said, doing my very best to be calm and collected. Inside, though, I was panicking, completely and utterly. I didn't know the person I was looking at.

"This isn't real." Her voice was barely a breath. "You're not… not real."

"No, no, I'm real, Annie. I don't lie to you. I'd never lie to you." I scoot about an inch closer and her whole body goes stiff, bloody fingernails digging into the ground, so I stop moving. "Believe me."

"What if you're lying about that?"

"You know me. I'm not. Annie, please."

She didn't move for a very long time, and when she did, it was only to put her hands over her ears. "Nothing's real," she said.

"No, this is real. I'm sorry, but this is real. I can prove it," I said impulsively.

"How?"

I moved a little closer; she flinched again. "Do you remember you told me about sitting by the sea and watching the sun go down? You said you did it every day, and when it got low enough, you could imagine that it was going into the ocean. But the water was never any hotter, even though it was the color of fire. Do you remember that?" I'd been moving as I spoke, and she didn't seem to notice.

"Yes," she said hesitantly.

"And I told you how underneath, when you're swimming and the sun's setting, the water looks like it's on fire there, too, and it's surrounding you, but the water's cold. It's so beautiful down there. I promised to take you swimming to see it if you came back." I was only a few feet away now, and she was against the wall but not any more scared. She seemed to be listening to me, which was a good sign.

"I wanna see that," she murmurs.

"Yeah, I'd love to take you. But you've got to let them clean you up, and do the interviews first, okay?" That made her freak out again, so I stopped and backtracked. "No, no, I'll be there with you the whole time, I promise."

"And you're not lying?" she asked. She looked so scared, and weak, but she was about to trust me, I could see her hesitating. She couldn't keep out everyone forever.

"I'm not, I swear I'm not. You know I'd never do that to you. Just come here, okay? Let me keep you safe, I promise I will," I said. "We're friends. You can trust me."

And she did trust me, even if she couldn't tell reality from insanity. She was just so tired. The circles under her eyes were almost black. Slowly, she inched her hand across the floor to me until it was within arms' reach. When it was, I put my hand over hers, moving slowly and deliberately. Her skin was so cold, and damp. "Annie. You'll be okay, I promise. I'll be right here with you. I won't leave you."

"And you're real?" she said one last time.

I held onto her hand, feeling how boney and thin she was, so different from how she felt not even a week ago. "I'm real," I said. "And so are you."

She crawled toward me then, on arms and legs so thin I couldn't tell how they kept her up. I didn't move until she was practically in my lap. Only then did I let myself put my arms around her, holding her against my chest. She was so delicate that I was scared I'd break her if I squeezed too tight, but she didn't have any similar worries. She held onto me so tightly that I could feel her fingers digging into me.

I spent several hours with her there, trying to convince her to put on the hospital gown. After two hours, she stood up on shaky legs. Twenty minutes after that, she let me help her out of her clothes. I put her into the bed then, and called for the technicians.

She started shaking when she saw them, but holding onto my hand calmed her down enough to let them close. They could easily have slipped a needle into her and sedated her, but I wouldn't let them. She was already terrified about not knowing what was real; she didn't need involuntary unconsciousness.

Luckily, she didn't have any big wounds that would leave horrible scars or something. Most of her problems were things that a lot of food and a shower would take care of. She wouldn't do even that without me with her, so I sat next to her on the bed while she ate special healthy food.

Then she wanted me in the shower with her, which was uncomfortable. Her, wet and naked, was not exactly a thing that I wanted to see. I mean, I wanted it, but not then. Not like that. She didn't get why that was wrong, and I wasn't going to explain it.

So I got in the shower with her. I kept all my clothes on; I didn't care if they got wet, and I didn't want to have less on. There were no good options, but I did my best. I did my damnedest to not even look at her.

"Another shower with your clothes on," she said shakily. She was quiet, but she sounded like herself again.

I couldn't answer right away. "Yeah. Bad habit," I finally said.

"And now you got me involved." I wasn't looking, but I heard the water turn off and she got out. "You can look," she said, so I turned around and saw her wrapped in a soft towel. "You should dry off, too," she told me.

"Okay, I will, as soon as you're taken care of."

"It's pretty simple," she said gently. Her hair's already dry and untangled, shiny and perfect.

"Are you still bleeding?" I asked.

She held up her hand; her fingers are raw at the tips, but not bleeding anymore. "I'm okay. You're gonna get sick if you're not careful."

"So you believe that I'm real?" I said, not letting myself think too much if that was the right thing to say. I had to know.

"Yeah." She hesitated. "How crazy do you think I am?"

"Not crazy at all."

"Don't lie to me. You said you'd never lie," she said, sounding hurt. "Finnick."

She's got me there. "Right. Maybe just a little bit. But you've got a really good reason."

"Yeah?" She hunched her shoulders, holding the towel closer around herself. "So that was real. The… the games were real, and the dying." She was very still, and I was worried she was going into another crazy period again.

"Yeah, yeah that was real, but you're out of there. You're safe now," I said.

"No, I know, but he… he just…"

"Don't think about that. The ocean. The beach. Think about that, the calmness."

She reached out to me, so I hugged her, even though my clothes were soaking wet and got her towel and hair wet again. She didn't care, though, wrapping her arm around my lower back and burying her face in my chest.

"It's gonna be okay, Annie. You're gonna be okay," I said.

"I'm not," she said. "I'm really not. How can you even be anywhere near me? Why aren't you scared that I'll go nuts again?"

"I'll never be scared of you. And I promised you that I'd stay with you as long as you wanted. I meant that. As long as you want."

"Forever."

"Okay."

"But I should probably get dressed first. And you should get dry clothes."

"Are we going to separate for that? Or are you going watch me get naked?" I joked, instantly regretting it.

But Annie laughed, sniffing wetly. "Just come back as soon as you can. Please."

"Five minutes," I promise. "No one else will come in here. While I'm gone, you can get dressed, alright?"

"Okay."

She let go of me and I left. Outside, I ordered the guards outside her door to not let anyone at all in. For some reason, there's a room for me on this hovercraft, complete with a closet fitted to my size, which makes my change faster. I threw on a T-shirt and shorts, and ran back to her room.

"I'm back," l said, opening the door. Annie's got a sweater on and loose pants that hang off of her. "How do you feel?"

"Fine." She came to me and put my arms around her for me. "So what do we do now?"

"We've probably landed by now, so we should get off and let your stylists take care of you so you're ready for the interview. And then the next day, you have the parade, where they're going to crown you victor."

"What do I say? I don't even know what to say."

"Whatever you want. Nothing, if you want. So can we go?"

"Sure, yeah." I lead her out, holding her hand as we go.

"Don't treat me different, please," she said after a moment. "Please."

I didn't know how to respond to that. "What do you mean?"

"You're acting like I'm made out of glass. I'm not that crazy, I just…" She couldn't seem to think of another way to put it. "I'm still me."

"Okay. But… what if you don't remember again? What do I do then?"

"Just… talk to me again. Tell me about the ocean. You'll be able to bring me back. You'll always be able to bring me back."

Perfect opening. I could've tried to hit on her. Instead, I pulled her closer and kissed the side of her head. "Whatever you need. I'll do whatever you need. Do you want me to come with you and the stylists?"

"Yeah. Don't let them put me in anything grand."

"Promise."


End file.
